LAY FAIR! 



BY 



jfcolen ffiariiett ffiridgman 



Author of "An American Woman's Plea for Germany," "Looking 
Toward Peace," and "The Dawn of Reason." 



Reprinted From The Standard Union, 
Brooklyn, N. Y. 



® 



THE FATHERLAND 

New York 

1915 



: aith is cold, and wilful men are strong, 
And the blithe world, with bells and harness proi 
Rides tinkling by, so musical and loud 
It drowns the Eternal Word, the Angelic Song. 

—LYRA APOSTOLICA. 



When we ourselves least kindly are, 

We deem the world unkind; 
Dark hearts, in flowers where honey lies, 

Only the poison find. 

— FABER. 



On must the faithful warrior go, 

Whereso tlie Chief proceedeth; 
And all true hearts will seek the foe 

Where'er the Banner leadeth: 
Our highest victory — it is loss! 

—ANCIENT HYMN. 



Christ demanded that we recast the values of life, finding 
in humility our grandeur, in truth our freedom, and in love 
our might. 

— HALLIDAY. 



Whatsoever thou givest beside thyself, is of no value 
in My sight, for I seek not thy gifts, but THEE. 

—IMITATION OF CHRIST. 






THE VOICE OF THE SILENT. 



June 9, 1915. 

A gentleman of Illinois, the author of the most brilliant paper 
by an American on the war, in a private letter thus unburdens him- 
self as to the march of events: "I have become so nauseated with 
the ignorant and bigoted comments by the press that I have with- 
drawn into my shell. It appears that in order to uphold our honor, 
our noble land of idealism is seriously thinking of sticking a knife 
into Germany's back, while she fights for her life against over- 
whelming odds. If we finally force ourselves into war on the side 
of the Allies, rest assured that you have done far more than your 
share in trying to prevent our country from committing this super- 
atrocity — this utterly vile and indefensible act of blackguardism." 

Fortunately, not the whole of America has gone clean mad. 
A goodly proportion of our citizens with the blessed sense of fair 
play and a high intelligence that makes us glad to be spoken by 
them (though as a rule they are publicly inarticulate, a refreshing 
oasis in the desert of sound) seem anything but hostile to those 
heroic nations, not excluding the reincarnated Turk, who threat- 
ened on every side are fighting so bravely for existence and free- 
dom. 

It is true that a loud if not large group of truculent newspapers 
howl for war with Germany. Yet it is no less true that the 
hour is not distant when America will scarcely believe she was 
once in such thraldom to misconception and England — just as our 
forefathers, who bled to save us from England, could never have 
conceived such a state of mind as exists here to-day. The New 
York "Times," so utterly wrong only two years ago, when it sup- 
ported the treachery of Servia against Eulgaria, saw fit to print 
the whole miserable truth on May 23, as did the "Century" for 
June; while significant lines in a recent letter to The Standard 
Union from Marie Fitzgerald, one of the few London correspond- 
ents whose word can be depended upon, prove that despite the 
drastic English censorship awkward facts will out. "The mines 
which have been about the North Sea, occasioning much trouble, 
are in the majority British mines. Some 480 were washed ashore, 
and examination shows them to be badly made. Forty-two French 
floating mines were also washed ashore, but ONLY EIGHTEEN 
GERMAN MINES were found." 

No friend of Germany need be discouraged as long as there 
is such a thing as TIME. Reputation, you know, is not guaranteed 
to wash or wear. From all over, as far west as California, as far 
east as Maine, and from the Middle West in shoals come personal 
letters which evince a keener insight into European affairs than 
our New York press. These people are only here and there of 
German stock; though to be of that imperial race at this juncture 
may well be a source of pride. From New Orleans come the words 



of a young woman whose pure Anglo-Saxon ancestry is as well 
known to American history as is that of, say, General Charles 
King. This letter is so charmingly feminine that one is tempted to 
quote it almost entire : 

Your courage and fortitude give me little concentric waves of warmth 
all over We know you are kicking against pricks, but in what a cause! 
You are holding a torch to a lot of falterers and stumblers, and I do hope 
with effect We read you with pride and increasing affection and we can 
see why you would change the wilful and thoughtless from their attitude 
of popular bigotry to voluntary intelligence. 

But oh, the bullheads one meets who fight against enlightenment! 
We have bloody times here. French women come to see us, old friends. 
In a few minutes dear little hypocritical PUNIC Belgium is presented for 
sympathy. We state history. Gallic anger rises, and one cannot get in a 
word, for French eloquence is torrential. No French woman wants argu- 
ment except to get her text for undamming! My Parisian friends come no 
more. They assure me by note of their friendship, but explain that while 
the monster William II. persists in slaughtering civilized peoples, they 
dare not enter a pro-German household for fear they may lose control 
of themselves. Most of them give us samples of such losses! 

It is the English phase of the whole matter which is so intolerable: 
their incitement to strife and misunderstanding; their censorship; their 
injustice toward neutral trade; their threatening attitude to keep us friend- 
ly_ t0 which so many stupidly fall. Germany is shown to be the bugaboo 
who has brought on and continued the war for sheer lust of blood! No- 
body stops to think that two are holding their own against— how many is 
it now? Nine! It should not be allowed. Professional pugilists have finer 
principles. The big bully against the infant. But oh, what a David for 
such a Goliath! Germany is the wonder of the age, and as such will be 
recorded in history a century hence, when the pigmies who form opinions 
through lies will have contributed their atom to the vagrant winds. 

We had a wonderful German Red Cross bazar recently, after the 
French-Belgian-English affairs had been given with eclat. The Germans 
turned out full force, babies and all. We cleared $8,000 and donated an 
extra $500 to a local charity by way of showing we didn't need to be 
selfish! Everyone sang at the Bavarian restaurant table, the whole family 
and our maids and the waiter who waited! It was a rousing time and 
tears were brushed away, new friendships pledged and an indomitable 
patriotism re-fed. 

Before such words as these from the enlightened, Germany 
must forgive us the attitude of the benighted. Also she must con- 
done our sins for the sake of that immense body of her own peo- 
ple here, heirs to her strength and vigor, who are the best of 
American citizens simply because sentiment and feeling prevent 
their forgetting the Fatherland. This vast patriotic throng, the 
bone and sinew of our country, whose leading characteristic is a 
heart big enough to hold affection for the land of their fathers not 
less than loyalty to the land of their sons, will never fight old 
Deutschland, no matter how the Anglo-American newspapers may 
flatter themselves, for any cause save the gravest. The fate of 
the Lusitania, through a new weapon with international status un- 
fixed, unhappy though it be, is no more a reason for conflict with 
Germany than was the loss of the Titanic, through careless sea- 
manship, an adequate excuse for an attack on England. For it is 
NOT of supreme importance in these fighting times that the travel- 
ing American be guaranteed against mishap on belligerent ships — 
that our sovereign selves, of all the people on the globe, be per- 
mitted in all circumstances to do what we please. To those aware 
of the real situation over there, our contention seems worse than 
unreasonable — it borders on the frivolous. 






THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 



July 4, 1915. 

However the resignation of Mr. Bryan may be regarded, it has 
had a wonderful effect in clearing the air. With this sudden rush 
for the principle of peace, who would believe that a minute ago 
even the clergy breathed war! The Great Commoner has helped 
us this much: he has made us catch our breath; made us realize 
whither we were drifting. While unconventional, Mr. Bryan's act 
was entirely human, and for it he hardly merits ridicule, that ready 
weapon of the boor, and still less deserves crucifixion. He was in 
an awkward situation: his opinion was unsought, his counsel (till 
he resigned) slighted, his pride wounded, the secret was out and 
he longed to get away. He would not be himself did he not quit 
dramatically and take the public into his confidence. Besides, 
as an astute observer declares, "For once Bryan is RIGHT!" 

The truth is, and we all know it now, that the May note to 
Germany was preposterous. In a world at war it led to war — war 
with a friendly nation. Merely as a composition it left much to be 
desired. It was no more a "classic" than it was a poem. Classic is 
a word which should be used sparingly. There are only a few in 
the world and their authors usually are dead. Whoever wrote it 
or whatever it stood for, particularly the cumbersome finale, whose 
creaking can almost be heard, it was effective neither from a literary 
nor a diplomatic standpoint. If that is Wilson at his best, give us 
plain everyday! 

The June note is an infinitely better piece of writing. It is 
simple, well-mannered and apparently sincere. Yet there is that 
same demand for the impossible; for the "inalienable right" of 
traveling Americans to sail the seas on belligerent ships laden with 
ammunition as safely in time of war as peace — and Germany with 
her inconvenient submarines go hang! "lis to be hoped one can say 
this without instantly being dubbed a traitor, as all who differ from 
a Government policy seem to be these days. To "my country right 
or wrong," there is now, you know, the wise amendment: "If right 
to be kept right, if wrong to be set right." 

While the Bryan peace idea may be visionary, evidently it 
is a heart belief; and that he should employ this opportune mo- 
ment to further it is good sense — since the ideals of one year or 
generation become the commonplace of the next. His withdrawal 
from the Department of State, where he was never at home, may 
prove of real service; for he voices in his latest utterances a tre- 



mendous undercurrent of popular opinion, in need of direction and 
support, and as an evangel the famous Democrat is without a peer. 

These sensational happenings — including the departure from 
our inhospitable shores of Dr. Dernburg, whose all too able ef- 
forts to enlighten our darkness excited the ire and ruined the 
manners of various misguided scribes — made the real conflict 
seem to take a back seat. Italy's long months of indecision were 
tiresome, nor does her entrance into the war evoke one thrill. The 
usual comment heard, when she is mentioned at all, seems always 
to be: "What about honor now?" Beside this, the invasion of 
Belgium looks white and clean. Even Mr. Villard's "Evening 
Post," never too fair to Germany, despite its yearn for the 
"judicial," balks at Italy's excuse that her rights under the Triple 
Alliance were not respected. "This," it says, "is a purely legal- 
istic justification. It does not go to the moral bearings of the case. 
In impartial eyes it will not render her position glorious or even 
handsome. She has too much the appearance of inviting bids for 
her support in the war and then selling herself to the highest 
bidder." 

An Italian subject, Signor Massaccesi, offers this view of 
his country's conduct: "Many in favor of war say it is because 
Austria and Germany invaded Servia and Belgium. Then why do 
these gentlemen not declare war on England for what she has 
done in the Transvaal, Egypt and India; on Russia for what she 
did in Poland, Finland and Persia; on France for what she did in 
Morocco, Tunis and Algeria; and on Italy for what she did in 
Tripoli? These countries, and especially those that claim to fight 
for civilization, have done many times worse than Germany and 
Austria are doing now." 

The old cry of "Italia Irredenta" is worse than inadequate 
since Ferrero himself, Italy's foremost historian, admits that the 
provinces of Trent and Trieste, though Italian speaking, never be- 
longed to Italy; and besides, hard-pressed Austria, six enemies at 
her throat, conceded the Trentino and more the other day without 
a shot. That Irredenta war-cry is about as honest as would be our 
own if after spilling over into Canada we should find the at- 
mosphere uncongenial and clamor to be "redeemed" ! 

Those who long for the downfall of kaisers and kings should 
remember that the Italian Government, except politicians 
bought by England, did not want this war. It saw the chance, per- 
haps the certainty, of humiliation; for few believe Italy has not 
blundered. The King tried hard to avoid the danger, but the 
newspapers and the people, or an unruly section of them, would 
not have it so. They wanted, as do the unthinking always, the 
excitement of a scrap. A cartoon in the "Eagle" of May tells 
the tale better than any words. An Italian soldier, with knapsack 
on back, ready from sword to pickaxe, from blanket to boots, 
leans on his gun with sagging knees, his absurd plume over one 
eye and both rolling heavenward in ludicrous dismay — aching for 
a fight and no fight in sight. 



The ex- Premier of Roumania, which strategic country Eng- 
land, working nights and days and Sundays, has so far failed to 
win over, frankly said in April to an American staff correspondent : 
"Roumania waits. She is a small country and must take the path 
of greatest future security. But for Roumania or Italy to fight 
Austria or Germany would be a gross breach of honor." 

A month later, in the country of Garibaldi, and for no reason 
at all, it was done ! 

Military atrocities have become a frightful bore, but the 
crucifixion of children and their use as screens in battle set forth 
by the Bryce report, the report, rather, to which Lord Bryce 
loaned his name, should be noted as a living example of the mental 
confusion following in the wake of hot and violent prejudice. An 
army, made up of all kinds, may be cruel and officers in con- 
quered territory severe, as witness the official records of our own 
beloved land, unearthed recently by various students of history, 
one of them that John Bigelow who is "Poultney's" kin. But 
when the names of witnesses are withheld (to avoid the vengeance 
of German troops, it is stated, on Belgians in Belgium), credulity 
can go no farther. As they say in the country: "You can't hang 
a yellow dog on such evidence as that." 

The authoritative statement of Russian outrages in East 
Prussia, whereby a prosperous country was converted into a desert 
waste, more than 20,000 buildings demolished or burned down, 
80,000 homes plundered and destroyed, men, women and chil- 
dren tortured, violated, beaten with whips and murdered, is signed 
and sworn to by competent witnesses, and its truth vouched for by 
official investigators and representatives of the Associated Press. 
Yet, while the Bryce stuff occupied whole pages of the newspapers, 
scarcely one reference was made to this entirely authentic German 
document — such is the fairness prevailing to-day in this fair land. 

Not a nation in the war is free from gross selfishness; nor 
are We — sending forth our hapless munitions of war. Legally the 
traffic may be correct, but morally, as it renders us the allies of 
the Allies, and economically, since we are killing off our best cus- 
tomers and, by prolonging the war, eventually all our customers, it 
is indefensible. Our reckless stupidity injures us not only abroad 
but at home, where we permit enormous profits to the few at the 
expense of the many. 

May not the real remedy, the radical solution, be to suspend 
commerce of every description with the belligerents until an 
armistice shall be declared? With surprising promptitude such a 
move might bring results of great importance. Our nation then 
could take her proper place in the world, not as a silent partner of 
War, but as the joyful harbinger of Peace on Earth and Good Will 
toward Men! 

Remember the ancient fable of the Man, the Wind, the Sun 
and the Cloak : that the harder the Wind blew the tighter the Man 
clung to his own ; but that when he felt the warmth of the Sun, he 
yielded to Kindliness what he had denied to Force. 



THE JOY OF THE MINORITY. 

July 15, 1915. 



I speak of gas; neither colloquial nor illuminating, but the 
variety which prompts your dear friends to exclaim : "Well, what 
do you think of the brute Germans NOW?" 

Germany is no more a brute than were the American Colonies 
— or an able clinic. For the sake of her people, of all people, she 
fights fiercely to end this awful war. She believes in the present 
hurt to insure the future cure. Beset as she is, to gain peace she 
must dare all. She never dreamed that the proud Lusitania would 
sink like a stone. For once, foresight failed her — her prowess 
overshot the mark. That we know, and who is the nation really 
to blame? 

Those among us who have endeavored to smoke out facts and 
opinions on both sides, late last year began to notice in the Faris 
"Figaro" and its fellows significant little items about French ex- 
periments with gases dangerous to human life. Even before this, 
letters from American staff correspondents at the German front 
told how the soldiers at a certain hour in the evening would shout: 
"Oh, here comes the pea soup!" which proved to be a yellow- 
green vapor, sufficiently unpleasant, but falling short of serious 
harm. 

Towards spring, sly Gallic dispatches, apparently unofficial, 
to the American papers, asserted from time to time that gas was 
coming over from the German lines, which from the French in- 
variably means an impending move of their own. Sure enough, 
soon the German official reports stated that a new virulent French 
gas was incommoding the soldiers, but so far had caused no deaths. 
Now, the Germans, with their scientific attainments, can always 
be depended upon to go the enemy one better; and in a war where 
they are greatly outnumbered, if not outmatched, the meanest 
weapon, once the lead is given, is in order. Hinc illae lacrimae. 

The English, too, are now crying for gas, and they won't be 
happy till they get it; but when they do, be sure a sanctimonious 
tail will be attached to it. You will hear nothing of the brute 
British; oh no, only about Sir Galahad. It will be as it was on 
March 26, when this official dispatch appeared everywhere: "The 
Admiralty has good reason to believe that the German submarine 
U-29 has been sunk with all hands." Only that and nothing more, 
though the reticence caused wonder and suspicion. Not a whisper 
about the British tanker which, taking advantage of the time given 
to lower its boats, promptly carried out, as to procedure and prizes, 
the Admiralty's sinister instructions and treacherously rammed the 
waiting submarine. Thus perished Captain Otto Weddigen, the 
first and finest hero of the war. 



The spirit of this renowned sailor who, on September 22, 
hesitated to sink, one after the other, the British cruisers, Hogue, 
Cressy and Aboukir, until reminded that Germany was fighting 
one to three, responds with thrilling effect to the need of the 
Fatherland. What greater honor could be his, victim of his own 
humanity, than to become at last the vital, if invisible, witness of 
England's perfidy — he to whom, at this critical moment, his 
country can point with authority and solemn pride. The nation 
that produces a Weddigen can well afford to smile at calumnies 
preferred by those who stoop to plunge the spear in Siegfried's 
back. 

He who flocks with the crowd can never know the joy of 
the minority. Once the ice-cold flood of popular disapproval is 
breasted, the divine adventurer would not exchange his lot for 
all the claques in Christendom. Far and wide stretch out hands 
whose existence were never dreamed of; hearts which might have 
remained closed forever open like flowers; while all about is an 
unseen multitude bound together by a common feeling purged of 
selfishness. Should victory come, happiness is increased a thou- 
sandfold; and even in defeat one can feel as must have Desdemona 
when she sank among the pillows — that death through him she 
still held dear were better far than life with any lesser man. 

New Orleans, that nest of the allies, sends interesting words 
from one young American, whose thought is all for Germany : 

We have very one-sided battles down here, where traditions, family 
names, even the nomenclature of the streets are all French, and there is an 
English colony which is eternally holding sewing-bees, and advertising 
themselves, to our inflammation! Like the early Christians who made 
with their staffs the sign of the Cross in the sand, to erase it quickly, we 
hold covert meetings and bring out truths the press has falsified. A 
dozen newspapers a week come from Germany. The Germans are grow- 
ing bitter towards the United States with its bullets and its tinged neutral- 
ity, but are not attempting to exculpate themselves, invariably asserting 
that when the war is over and all is told misconceptions will be removed 
and wrongs righted. 

The warning of President James J. Hill of the Great North- 
ern Railway to the Newspaper Publishers' Association on the oc- 
casion of its annual meeting last April applies with peculiar force 
here and now: 

With the decline in prestige and power of editorial opinion has come 
the injection of bias into the news department. It is the exception to find 
articles on important subjects not colored by the known position of the 
publication. Yet it is only by impartiality, by devotion to the abstract 
truth, that the country can get anywhere. This is a protest against unfair 
fighting, against the illegitimate use of an honorable weapon. One thing 
only can rule the world. There is but one ultimate force. It is the truth, 
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

If Germany comes into her own, as we pray and believe, this 
little band of American disciples, fighting so valiantly for fair play, 
may discover, mingling with their satisfaction, a sense of loss: 
loss # of the ideal, transmuted into the real; loss of that wonderful 
stir in the heart, urging each to his utmost and best; loss of the fine 
free life of the open, as it expires in the counsels of men. 

To seek the truth and fight gladly for it, no matter how sharp 
the flints under foot, how dark the clouds overhead — that is the 
Secret. 




E. 



In the political soil of the past decade has lain the seed from 
which sprang the dark passion-flower now poisoning the earth. 
A great light is thrown on this strange incubation period by two 
Englishmen of talent and prevision, H. N. Brailsford, in "The War 
of Steel and Gold," and E. D. Morel, who lost his seat in Parlia- 
ment, to his honor, for telling the truth, in "Ten Years of Secret 
Diplomacy." Both volumes, published shortly before the war, 
hold the key to the situation and should be read by everybody who 
cares to understand. 

For who knows that German Militarism is only another name 
for defense of hearth and home? How many realize that in ten 
years France and Russia have spent $800,000,000 more than Ger- 
many and Austria in preparation for war? 

Lloyd George, in a speech at Queen's Hall, June 28, 1908, 
voiced the situation with something like sympathy when he 
said: "Germany's Army is to her what England's Navy is to us — her 
sole defense against invasion. She may have a stronger army than 
France, than Russia, than Italy, than Austria, but she is between 
two great Powers who in combination could pour in a vastly 
greater number of troops than she has. Don't forget that when you 
wonder why Germany is frightened at our alliances and under- 
standings." 

"A wanton enemy, a joyful aggressor, a primitive earth- 
shaking Imperialism exists nowhere in Europe to-day," de- 
clares Brailsford. But there does exist secret diplomacy and the 
balance of power, with unjust "settlements" all along the line. 
England, who prides herself on her modernity, in soul-racking, 
truth- defying, old-fashioned intrigue is the worst sinner of the lot. 
It is amazing that the plebiscite can endure such a Government, 
particularly its Foreign Office — in essence a survival of mediaeval 
times. But somebody says most of us would rather lie down and 
die than think. 

England ridicules German diplomacy as a mixture of bullying 
and cajolery, but even that is an advance on systematic deceit. 
Cavour once said : "I always know how to mislead the diplomatists. 
I tell the truth." 

International "understandings" reached a vicious climax in 
that weird offspring of Edward VII., the Triple Entente, which 
pledged England to France and Russia in a way her people little 
dreamed. Now, they are learning fast many things : one, that the 
fate of Belgium was discounted by the nations involved five years 
ago; another, that many of England's greatest men believe their 
country to be on the verge of bankruptcy, if not revolution. So 
the v/heel turns and posterity pays. 



'eigh'd in the balance, hero aust 

Is vile as mortal clay; 
Thy scales, Mortality! are just 

To all that pass away; 
And yet methought the living great 
Some higher sparks should animate, 

To dazzle and dismay: 
Nor deem'd Contempt could thus make mirth 
Of these, the Conquerors of the earth. 



Where may the wearied eye repose 

When gazing on the Great; 
Where neither guilty glory glows, 

Nor despicable state? 
Yes — one — the first — the last — the best — 

The Cincinnatus of the West, 

Whom envy dared not hate, 
Bequeath' d the name of Washington, 
To make man blush there was but one! 

—ODE TO NAPOLEON, BY LORD BYRON. 



